“I have a suggestion,” he said, sitting up straight in the saddle. “Regardless of everything, let’s make a truce, at least while this mission lasts. We’ve ventured deep into enemy territory. It will end badly if we don’t trust each other, if we aren’t loyal, vigilant and prepared to defend each other’s arses if it comes to it. Well? Will you shake my hand?”

“I will. But from this moment on we shall be honest with each other, Bedřich.”

“Agreed, Reynevan.”

Next day they passed the small town of Krzanowice and reached the village of Bojanów, conspicuous for a building of severe architecture housing a convent, a branch of the Racibórz Dominican Sisters’ nunnery. They were about a mile from Racibórz, Bedřich estimated.

“Let me remind you,” said the latter, gathering the unit together and beginning his briefing, “that we are merchants from Elbląg, Prussia. We have been in Hungary and are returning. We are dejected after being caught and robbed by Hussites outside Odry. That’s our story, if asked. I happen to know that Reynevan and Scharley speak German. How about you, giant? He who is what he is?”

“I speak with all the tongues of men, but in spite of that I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And my name is Samson. So you can call me that, Commandant.”

In the distance they saw the walls and spires of Racibórz. First of all, before they even reached the houses outside the walls, they passed a small church, a cemetery and a gallows atop a flat hill. Several bodies in various stages of decomposition were swinging from a crosswise beam in the mild breeze.

“There are hangings even during Holy Week,” observed Scharley. “Which means there’s a need. Which means they’re seizing people.”

“They’re seizing people everywhere now,” said Bedřich, shrugging. “After last year’s expedition people see Hussites everywhere. It’s the psychosis of fear.”

“The expedition didn’t even come close to the Racibórz Duchy,” Reynevan said. “They didn’t see a single Hussite.”

“Has anyone ever seen the Devil? But everybody’s still afraid of him.”

They rode between the smoke-veiled cottages, hearing the calls of all sorts of livestock and the sounds of people carrying out various money-making activities. A good two dozen beggars were sitting outside Saint Nicholas’s Gate with suppurating stumps and ulcers showing under their rags. Bedřich tossed them a few coppers to lend credence to their appearance and cover story: they had entered the town as merchants, and among that caste there was a fashion for giving alms, donations and other, similar displays of virtue.